


Still Life

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Castiel, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Model Dean, Shipper Charlie, an innocent step back from what i wrote recently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The model has freckled skin and bowed legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Life

Charlie casually mentions to Castiel that they're starting life drawings thirty minutes before class starts. 

_"What?_ Charlie, why didn't you say something before? Are we practicing gesture or -"

"Calm down, Cas! It's just a life drawing session, Professor Harvelle already told me it would be simple. Besides, I know the model so I can probably talk him into giving us good angles." Charlie smiles at him as she finishes setting up her easel and brushes. Acrylic paints were Charlie's forte while Castiel tended to like charcoal more.

He hastily sets up his own easel and supplies, rolling up the sleeves on his button-down and trying not to worry too much when the rest of the class starts to fill up the room. They set up their respective stands around a simple platform in the center of the room, kids ranging from nineteen to twenty-two like Castiel himself. Professor Harvelle's art courses were an unspoken mandatory class for any art major. She focused on honing skill and helping kids find what their true passions and weaknesses were. Castiel's being a strength and love for charcoal and a passionate hatred for drawing other people.

Give him a vase with some flowers in it and he could have the whole thing sketched out in ten minutes. A weird rock? He could capture every curve. A landscape? No problem. But the second he was forced to draw something remotely resembling another human being, he was lost. Their expressions vacant, posture too stiff on the page. They might be accurate in proportion, but they lacked heart. There wasn't any love put into those drawings.

"What if I fake having a heart attack? Do you think I could pull that off?" He turns to his friend, blue eyes wide and worried. Charlie scoffs at him, dipping a paintbrush into a splotch of blue on her palette. 

"Cas, you run two miles every morning and drink about five thousand glasses of water a day," She raises an eyebrow, mixing two colors and testing out the result on the paper.

"It's important to stay hydrated," he says, fingers grabbing for his own art supplies. He starts sketching the platform itself, hoping to get some kind of a head start. HE spends the next ten minutes drawing the background and floor, still leaving enough space for a figure on the paper. Next to him, he hears Charlie turn and happily greet someone. Charlie's friendly, but not friendly enough to put her supplies down and full-on  _hug_ whoever it is she just latched onto. Cas turns and waits, the stranger wearing a plaid shirt and old jeans. His back is turned to Castiel, tall enough that Charlie's head barely makes it over his shoulder. She opens her eyes and makes a small "oh!" noise, pulling back and turning the stranger around. 

"Dean! This is my friend Cas. Cas, this is Dean. He's our new model."

The face staring back at Castiel is kind and open, a soft smile on his face. He extends a hand and words come out of his mouth, but Cas doesn't hear them. He firmly shakes Dean's hand and keeps staring, unable to look away at what must be a demigod in front of him. Charlie says something to the side about staring being rude, but it's not like Cas is alone in this -- Dean is staring back just as much as Cas is. 

"Dean, he's dreamy, I know. But don't you have a sheet to go put on?" Charlie pokes at Dean's side, the boy finally jumping back slightly and walking off. Dean stops before he walks into the back room, eyes meeting Castiel's once again.

"Nice to meet you, Cas," he says, voice softer than it was when he'd spoken with Charlie. Castiel tries and fails not to stare at him when he strides away.

"He's a sophomore like me," Charlie draws his attention away from Dean's retreating form, her red hair somehow having gone from loose around her shoulders to piled into a messy bun. The streaks of color on the underside of her hair are now visible, a rainbow of blues and purple mixing in beautifully with her natural red. "He's gonna major in some kind of engineering. The dork hasn't decided yet." 

"An engineer," Cas breathes out the words, staring at the paper in front of him. He's about to draw the Adonis that he met a mere five minutes ago in nothing but a sheet. Depending on the angle, Cas might have to draw a few choice parts  _not_ covered by the sheet. He fiddles with his pencils, arranging and rearranging them. Charlie reaches over and stops his hands; when he looks up, her expression is teasing.

"I told him about you before. And I showed him a picture one time. He said, and I quote, 'Set me up with that angel.' So feel free to ask for some private modeling sessions once everyone else has packed up, okay?" Charlie pats him on the shoulder as their attention is drawn back to the middle. 

Professor Harvelle stands on the platform, blonde and slightly graying hair tossed over one shoulder. She explains that it'll be their first and only life drawing session like this -- Cas breathes out a sigh of relief at that. Professor Harvelle gives them another few minutes for any late arrivals to finish setting up in the circle. There's a variety of supplies as always: multiple kinds of paint, several other sketchers like Castiel, and even a kid with just sharpies to work with on the far side of the platform. A door opens on the left wall of the classroom, a supply closet that also served as a model changing room. Out steps Dean, a white sheet draped over his shoulder and wrapped around his waist once.

He's beautiful. 

Dean steps onto the platform and gives a nervous smile. Several other students are just as helpless as Castiel -- they simply stare, wondering how on earth they can capture such wonder in only an hour. 

"Should I pose or something? Professor Harvelle?" Dean's voice is slightly nervous and he fidgets on the podium, hands restless at his sides. He looks like a lost puppy and Castiel kind of -- no, _definitely --_ wants to kiss the uncertainty away from his features. Professor Harvelle moves up to the podium and arranges his arms and legs. Dean blushes when she moves the sheet farther away from his waist, revealing a long stretch of skin all the way from shoulder to foot. Castiel is slightly jealous of the kid that gets to draw that angle. From his own viewpoint, he can sketch out a profile of Dean from the other side. Castiel tries to plan out what to do, but gets lost in wanting to do less productive things than draw. 

Castiel shakes himself a little; everyone else in the class has already started drawing, eyes flicking between subject and canvas. He swallows and tries to separate himself from Dean, tries to see him as a statue instead of a living, breathing person.  _Just treat it like a still life._

Dean is no longer Dean -- he's the model. 

The model has freckled skin and bowed legs. His nose is ever so slightly crooked, something barely visible from Castiel's vantage point. The model has broad shoulder and muscled arms but a softer middle. The sheet drapes over his form gently, caressing his shoulder and shielding his leg from view. Golden light filters in behind him, casting some of his features in shadow. Cas lets his fingers drift over the page, pencil making long swipes and delicate touches when he draws the model's face. As he starts shading the final folds in the sheet, Dean moves off the platform. 

"What? Charlie -" 

"Class ended," Charlie says, her own face still close to her canvas. She's drawn Dean in vibrant color, his skin a pale pink and flecked in different shades of green and blue. The background is filled with soft yellows and oranges, her own perspective allowing a clearer view of his face. It's stunning as she adds a final touch of blue to the sheet, a piece that Castiel would easily praise as worthy of the MoMA. 

Castiel turns back to his own easel, adding in a last few strokes of darkness to the platform and around Dean's shoulder. He steps back and looks at it -- proportional, shading makes sense. But it's still empty of  _something._ He sighs and starts packing up; most of the other students have already left, eager to move on with their final class of the day. Charlie pats him on the shoulder again as she finishes putting her supplies away, making him the last person in the room. He sighs, knowing that he'll probably never figure out how to make life drawings actually have  _life_ in them. 

With that final disappointing thought, he finishes tucking his pencils into his bag and folding the easel up. Right before he starts moving out the door, a voice calls out to him. "Hey!"

Castiel turns back around, eyes widening when he sees Dean -- Dean, who still hadn't finished fully dressing himself -- running to see him. His shirt isn't buttoned up and his jeans appear to have been put on hastily as well. Castiel tries not to stare as Dean walks up to him and smiles, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Can I, uh -- can I see it? Or do you want to keep it private? Which is totally fine, I just -"

"Sure, you can -- um... yeah, sure," Cas says hurriedly, dropping his bag of supplies and sitting down. Dean sits next to him, his legs splayed out in a wide V so that his thigh is pressed up against Castiel's. 

Cas opens up the sketchbook, flipping through until he finds the right page. A blush creeps up the back of his neck as he hands it over, hoping that the redness doesn't show up too much on his cheeks. Dean stares for a full minute, fingers moving to trace one of the lines.

"Holy shit," Dean murmurs. Castiel gently reaches over and grabs his hand, the other man looking at him in surprise. 

"Sorry, it's charcoal. It'll, um, smear," Castiel says quickly, hand still gently holding onto Dean's. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah," Cas breathes the word out, knowing that they're far closer than most people are after having met only an hour ago. Dean is a mere three inches away, his eyes bright and green and looking almost  _hopeful._

"Cas?" Dean says the word just as softly, eyes flicking down to Castiel's lips. "Could I model for you again? Just... just you?" 

Castiel weighed the pros and cons of the proposition. 

 

**PRO: more life drawing practice, more art, excuse to spend time with Dean, looking at Dean, Dean breathing the same air as him, Dean barely clothed, Dean**

**CON: Dean wearing just a sheet will be a test in self-control**

 

"I'd love that," he says, a soft smile appearing on his features. Dean mirrors the expression, looking away briefly before standing up and helping Castiel to his feet. They stood together for a minute, neither boy wanting to leave the room without some kind of closure to the conversation. 

"So, when do you want to? Pretty much any time works for me, except I have class in the mornings -"

"Dean?" 

Castiel stops him with a soft utterance of his name and a hand placed on his arm. Dean's eyes lock on him, wide and uncertain again. "Cas?"

"May I kiss you?" 

Dean is silent for a moment before smiling widely. _"Please,"_ Dean says, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist as Cas brings their mouths together. His hands are gentle, cradling Dean's face as their lips meet. Dean's mouth is soft and pliant, opening up easily as Castiel licks the roof of his mouth and tangles their tongues together. He didn't mean for it to turn into a dirty kiss, but self-restraint is out the window if Dean keeps running his hands through Cas' hair like that. 

They pull away with soft sighs, Dean's skin flushed all the way down his chest. As Castiel stares at the pinkness, Dean hurriedly tries to button up the shirt and hide the coloration. Cas simply laughs and leans down to kiss the skin instead, licking and sucking hickeys onto his chest and neck. Dean pulls him away after two minutes of gently moaning and running his fingers through Cas' soft hair, staring at the other boy with dark eyes and a bright smile. 

"I'm gonna pass out if you don't stop that," he says, Cas giving him one last nip before leaning back up and chastely kissing his lips.

"So, when did you say you could model for me?"

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated!
> 
> this is based on my own frustrations with bringing life to drawings. sadly, i am not as lucky as cas.


End file.
